"Two couples find love and trust again after devastating marriages."
Reviewed by Kay Quintin
Posted June 30, 2013
Romance Series | Romance
A Father For Her Triplets -- Rich and handsome Wyatt
McKenzie was the geeky kid in school with a real crush on
Missy Johnson Brooks . Returning home to Newland, Maryland
to search his deceased grandmother's home for heirloom
jewelry his mother believed to be hidden away the woman next
door turns out to be none other than "his" Missy. Missy is
an
abandoned divorcee who has been struggling to support
herself and her 4 year old triplets since birth. Striving
to succeed with a new cake business, a man does not fit in
her future after her disastrous previous marriage. Still
holding a flame for Missy, the also divorced Wyatt finds her
still earth shattering attractive. Neither want to engage
in a commitment as trusting is not in their makeup any
longer. Missy refuses financial help and both have to face
the fact that they just might have found someone that can
love them for who and what they are.
Her Pregnancy Surprise -- Danny Carson, owner of the
family owned Carson Services, a financial management firm,
is rich beyond belief. He carries the guilt of a broken
marriage and a heart breaking secret of the loss of a young
son. Taking his new bright employee to Virginia Beach to
wine and dine a client, his libido forgets its boundaries
and he engages in hot sex with Grace McCartney. Unable to
justify an involvement with another woman because of his
guilt, the relationship does not advance. Finding herself
pregnant, Grace approaches Danny and is instantly thrown
out, his believing that this is a prank to trap him into
marriage and gain his money. The proud Grace is devastated,
quits her job and survives on her own through her daughter's
birth. Completely in love with Danny but only offering him
his right to be a father to his daughter, Danny realizes
things were not as he thought. Desperate to become
involved in her life, he and Grace still fight the
attraction they once shared and it takes his dark deep
secret to be revealed for either of them to move forward.
Both stories are wonderful emotional tales of people
tragically injured from previous loves and deny any
happiness that comes their way. Beautifully written and
definite page turners, both tales have unique story lines
that will capture the reader. This is the first I have had
the pleasure of reading and reviewing for this author, but
absolutely not the last! I was completely drawn in with the
story line of both tales.
SUMMARY
A Father for Her Triplets: An uplifting new tale
celebrating Mothers in a Million. Single mom Missy
Johnson has worked hard to provide her adorable triplets
with the secure childhood she never had. But now that her
baking business has taken off, Missy's left struggling to
juggle cupcakes and kids! That is until gorgeous Wyatt
McKenzie comes back to town, bringing memories she'd prefer
stayed locked away… But when she sees him bonding with her
mischievous trio, Missy realizes five might just be the
perfect number! Reader Favorite—Her Pregnancy
Surprise Grace would do anything for her
daughter—even if it means seeing Danny again. He broke her
heart once, and he doesn't even know he has a child…
ExcerptA FATHER FOR HER TRIPLETS...
The best part of being rich was, of course, the toys.
There wasn't anything Wyatt McKenzie wanted that he didn't
have.
Gliding along the winding road that led to Newland,
Maryland, on a warm April morning, he revved the engine of
his big black motorcycle and grinned. He loved the toys.
The second best thing about being rich was the power. Not
that he could start a war, and not even the control he had
over the lives of the people who depended upon him for work
and incomes. The power he was talking about was the power he
had over his own schedule.
Take right now for instance. His grandmother had died the
month before, and it was time to clear out her house for
sale. The family could have hired someone, but Grandma
McKenzie had a habit of squirreling away cash and hiding
jewelry. When none of her family heirloom jewelry was found
in her Florida townhouse, Wyatt's mother believed it was
still in her house in Maryland. And Wyatt had volunteered to
make the thousand–mile trip back "home" to search her
house.
His mother could have come. She'd actually know more
about what she was looking for. But his divorce had become
final the week before. After four years fighting over money,
his now ex–wife had agreed to settle for thirty
percent interest in his company.
His company. She'd cheated on him. Lied to him. Tried to
undermine his authority. And she got thirty percent of
everything he'd worked for? It wasn't right.
But it also hurt. They'd been married for four years
before the trouble started. He'd thought she was happy.
He needed some time to get over his anger with her and
the hurt, so he could get on with the rest of his life.
Looking for jewelry a thousand miles away was as good of an
excuse as any to take a break, relax and forget about the past.
So he'd given himself an entire month vacation simply by
telling his assistant he was leaving and wouldn't be back
for four weeks. He didn't have to remind Arnie that his gram
had died. He didn't have to say his divorce was final. He
didn't have to make any excuse or give any reason at all. He
just said, "I'm going. See you next month."
He revved his bike's engine again as he swung it off the
highway and onto the exit ramp for Newland, the town he'd
grown up in. After buying the company that published his
graphic novels, he'd moved his whole family to Florida to
enjoy life in the sun. His parents had made trips home. Gram
had spent entire summers here. But he hadn't even been home
for a visit in fifteen long years. Now, he was back. A
changed man. A rich man. Not the geeky kid everybody "liked"
but sort of made fun of. Not the skinny nerd who never got
picked for the team in gym class. But a
six–foot–one, two–hundred–pound guy
who not only worked out, he'd also turned his geekiness into
a fortune.
He laughed. He could only imagine the reception he was
about to get.
Two sweeping turns took him to Main Street then one final
turn took him to his grandmother's street. He saw the aging
Cape Cod immediately. Gables and blue shutters accented the
white siding. A row of overgrown hedges bordered the
driveway, giving a measure of privacy from the almost
identical Cape Cod next door. The setup was cute. Simple.
But that was the way everybody in Newland lived. Simply.
They had nice, quiet lives. Not like the hustle and bustle
of work and entertainment – cocktail parties and picnics,
jet skiing and fund raisers – he and his family lived on the
Gulf Coast.
He roared into the driveway and cut the engine. After
tucking his helmet under his arm, he rummaged in his shirt
pocket for his sunglasses. He slid them on, walked to the
old–fashioned wooden garage door and yanked it open
with a grunt. No lock or automatic garage door for his
grandmother. Newland was safe as well as quiet. Another
thing very different from where he currently lived. The
safety of a small town. Knowing your neighbors. Liking your
neighbors.
He missed that.
The stale scent of a closed–up garage wafted out to
him and he waved it away as he strode back to his bike.
"Hey, mithter."
He stopped, glanced around. Not seeing anybody, he headed
to his bike again.
"Hey, mithter."
This time the voice was louder. When he stopped, he
followed the sound of the little–boy lisp and found
himself looking into the big brown eyes of a kid who
couldn't have been more than four years old. Standing in a
small gap in the hedges, he grinned up at Wyatt.
"Hi."
"Hey, kid."
"Is that your bike?"
"Yeah." Wyatt took the two steps over to the little boy
and pulled back the hedge a bit so he could see him. His
light brown hair was cut short and spiked out in a few
directions. Smudges of dirt stained his T–shirt. His
pants hung on skinny hips.
He craned his head back and blinked up at Wyatt. "Can I
have a wide?"
"A wide?"
He pointed at the bike. "A wide."
"Oh, you mean ride." He looked at his motorcycle. "Um."
He'd never taken a kid on his bike. Hell, he was barely ever
around kids – except the children of his staff when they had
company outings.
"O–wen..."
The lyrical voice floated over to Wyatt and his breath
stalled.
Missy. Missy Johnson. Prettiest girl in his high school.
Granddaughter of his Gram's next–door neighbor. The
girl he'd coached through remedial algebra just for the
chance to sit close to her.
"Owen! Honey? Where are you?"
Soft and melodious, her sweet voice went through him like
the first breeze of spring.
He glanced down at the kid. "I take it you're Owen."
The little boy grinned up at him.
The hedge shuffled a bit and suddenly there she stood,
her long yellow hair caught in a ponytail.
In the past fifteen years, he'd changed everything about
himself, while she looked to have been frozen in time. Her
blue–gray eyes sparkled beneath thick black lashes.
Her full lips bowed upward as naturally as breathing. Her
peaches and cream complexion glowed like a teenager's even
though she was thirty–three. A blue T–shirt and
jeans shorts accented her small waist and round hips. The
legs below her shorts were as perfect as they'd been when
she was cheering for the Newland High football team.
Memories made his blood rush hot through his veins.
They'd gotten to know each other because their grandmothers
were next–door neighbors. And though she was prom
queen, homecoming queen, snowball queen and head cheerleader
and he was the king of the geeks, he'd wanted to kiss her
from the time he was twelve.
Man, he'd had a crush on her.
She gave him a dubious look. "Can I help you?"
She didn't know who he was?
He grinned. That was priceless. Perfect.
"You don't remember me?"
"Should I?"
"Well, I was the reason you passed remedial algebra."
Her eyes narrowed. She pondered for a second. Then she
gasped. "Wyatt?"
He rocked back on his heels with a chuckle. "In the flesh."
Her gaze fell to his black leather jacket and jeans, as
well as the black helmet he held under his arm.
She frowned, as if unable to reconcile the sexy rebel he
now dressed like with the geek she knew in high school.
"Wyatt?"
Taking off his sunglasses so she could get a better look
at his face, he laughed. "I've sort of changed."
She gave him another quick once over and everything
inside of Wyatt responded. As if he were still the teenager
with the monster crush on her, his gut tightened. His
rushing blood heated to boiling. His natural instinct to
pounce flared.
Then he glanced down at the little boy.
And back at Missy. "Yours?"
She ruffled Owen's spiky hair. "Yep."
"Mom! Mom!" A little blond girl ran up to her. Tapping on
Missy's knee, she whined, "Lainie hit me."
A dark–haired little girl raced up behind her. "Did
not!"
Wyatt's eyebrows rose. Three kids?
She met his gaze. "These are my kids... Owen, Helaina and
Claire." She tapped each child's head affectionately.
"They're triplets."
Had he been chewing gum, he would have swallowed it.
"Triplets?"
She ruffled Owen's hair fondly. "Yep."
Oh, man.
"You and your husband must be so..." Terrified,
overworked, tired... "Proud."
Missy Johnson Brooks turned all three kids in the
direction of the house. "Go inside. I'll be in in a second
to make lunch." Then she faced the tall, gorgeous guy across
the hedge.
Wyatt McKenzie was about the best looking man she'd ever
seen in real life. With his super–short black hair cut
so close it looked more like a shadow on his head than hair,
broad shoulders and watchful brown eyes, he literally
rivaled the men in movies.
Her heart rattled in her chest as she tried to pull
herself together. It wasn't just weird to see Wyatt McKenzie
all grown up and sexy. He brought back some memories she
would have preferred stay locked away.
Shielding her eyes from the noonday sun, she said, "My
husband and I are divorced."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "That's okay. How about you?"
His face twisted. "Divorced too."
His formerly squeaky voice was low and deep, so sexy that
her breathing stuttered and heat coiled through her middle.
She stifled the urge to gasp. Surely, she wasn't going to
let herself be attracted to him? She'd already gone that
route with a man. Starry–eyed and trusting, she'd
married a gorgeous guy who made her pulse race, and a few
years later found herself deserted with three kids. Oh,
yeah. She'd learned that lesson and didn't care to repeat it.
She cleared her throat. "I heard a rumor that you got
super rich once you left here."
"I did. I write comic books."
"And you make that much money drawing?"
"Well, drawing, writing scripts––" His sexy
smile grew. "And owning the company."
She gaped at him, but inside she couldn't stop a swoon.
If he'd smiled at her like that in high school she probably
would have fainted. Thank God she was older and wiser and
knew how to resist a perfect smile. "You own a company?"
"And here I thought the gossip mill in Newland was
incredibly efficient."
"It probably is. In the past few years I haven't had
time to pay much attention."
He glanced at the kids. One by one they'd ambled back to
the hedge and over to her, where they currently hung around
her knees. "I can see that."
Slowly, carefully, she raised her gaze to meet his. He
wasn't the only one who had changed since high school. She
might not be rich but she had done some things. She wasn't
just raising triplets; she also had some big–time
money possibilities. "I own a company too."
His grin returned. Her face heated. Her heart did
something that felt like a somersault.
"Really?"
She looked away. She couldn't believe she was so
attracted to him. Then she remembered that Wyatt was
somebody special. Deep down inside he had been a nice guy
and maybe he still was underneath all that leather. But that
only heightened her unease. If he wasn't, she didn't want
her memories of the one honest, sweet guy in her life
tainted by this sexy stranger. Worse, she didn't want him
discovering too much about her past.
Bragging about her company might cause him to ask
questions that would bring up memories she didn't want to share.
She reined in her enthusiasm about her fledgling
business. "It's a small company."
"Everybody starts small."
She nodded.
He smiled again, but looked at the triplets and motioned
toward his motorcycle. "Well, I guess I better get my bike
in the garage."
She took a step back, not surprised he wanted to leave.
What sexy, gorgeous, bike–riding, company–owning
guy wanted to be around a woman with kids? Three kids. Three
super–loveable kids who had a tendency to look needy.
Though she was grateful he was racing away, memories
tripped over themselves in her brain. Him helping her with
her algebra, and stumbling over asking her out. And her
being unable to keep that date.
The urge to apologize for standing him up almost moved
her tongue. But she couldn't say anything. Not without
telling him things that would mortally embarrass her. "It
was nice to see you."
He flashed that lethal grin. "It was nice to see you too."
He let go of the hedge he'd been holding back. It sprang
into place and he disappeared.
With the threat of the newcomer gone, the trips scrambled
to the kitchen door and raced inside. She followed them,
except she didn't stop in the kitchen. She strode through
the house to the living room where she fell to the sofa.
Realizing she was shaking, she picked up a pillow, put
it on her knees and pressed her face to it. She should have
known seeing someone she hadn't seen since graduation would
take her back to the worst day in her life.
Her special day, graduation, her dad had stopped at the
bar on the way home from the ceremony. Drunk, he'd beaten
her mom, ruined the graduation dress she'd bought with her
own money by tossing bleach on it, and slapped Althea,
knocking her into a wall, breaking her arm.
Her baby sister, the little girl her mom had called
miracle baby and her dad had called a mistake, had been hit
so hard that Missy had taken her to the hospital. Once
they'd fixed up her arm, a social worker had peered into
their emergency room cubicle.
Where's your mom?
She's out for the night. I'm eighteen. I'm babysitting.
The social worker had given her a look of disbelief, so
she'd produced her driver's license.
When the social worker was gone, Althea had glared at
her. She wanted to tell the truth.
She turned on her sister. Do you want to end up in
foster care? Or worse, have him beat mom until she dies?
Well, I don't.
And the secret had continued.
Her breath stuttered out. Her mom was dead now. Althea
had left home. She'd enrolled in a university thousands of
miles away in California. She'd driven out of town and never
looked back.
And her dad?
Well, her dad was "gone" too. Just not forgotten. He
still ran the diner, but he spent every spare cent he had on
alcohol and gambling. If he wasn't drunk, he was in Atlantic
City. The only time she saw him was when he needed money.
A little hand fell to her shoulder. "What's wong, mommy?"
Owen. With his little lisp and his big heart.
She pulled her face out of the pillow. "Nothing's
wrong." She smiled, ruffled his short brown hair. "Mommy is
fine."
She was fine because after her divorce she'd figured out
that she wasn't going to find a knight on a white horse who
would rescue her. She had to save herself. Save her kids.
Raise her kids in a home where they were never afraid or hungry.
After her ex drained their saving account and left her
with three babies and no money, well, she'd learned that the
men in her life didn't really care if kids were frightened
and/or hungry. And the only person with the power to fix
that was her.
So she had.
But she would never, ever trust a man again.
Not even sweet Wyatt.
Wyatt walked through the back door of his gram's house
totally confused.
Somehow in his memory he'd kept Missy an
eighteen–year–old beauty queen. She might still
look like an eighteen–year–old beauty queen, but
she'd grown up. Moved on. Become a wife and mom.
He couldn't figure out why that confused him so much.
He'd moved on. Gotten married. Gotten divorced. Just as she
had. Why did it feel so odd that she'd done the same things
he had?
His cell phone rang. He grabbed it from his jean's
pocket. Seeing the caller ID of his assistant, he said,
"Yeah, Arnie, What's up?"
"Nothing except that the Wizard Awards were announced
this morning and three of your stories are in!"
"Oh." He expected a thrill to shoot through him, but
didn't get one. His mind was stuck on Missy. Something about
her nagged at him.
"I thought you'd be happier."
Realizing he was standing there like a goof, not even
talking to the assistant who'd called him, he said, "I am
happy with the nominations. They're great."
"Well, that's because your books are great."
He grinned. His work was great. Not that he was vain,
but a person had to have some confidence –
He stopped himself. Now he knew what was bothering him
about Missy. She'd stood him up. They'd had a date
graduation night and she'd never showed. In fact, she hadn't
even come to her grandmother's house that whole summer. He
hadn't seen her on the street. He'd spent June, July and
August wondering, then left for college never knowing why
she'd agreed to meet him at the party of a mutual friend,
but never showed.
He said, "Arnie, thanks for calling," then hung up the
phone.
She owed him an explanation. Fifteen years ago, even if
he'd seen her that summer, he would have been too
embarrassed to confront her, ask her why she'd blown him off.
At thirty–three, rich, talented and successful,
nothing was too difficult for him to confront. He might have
lost one–third of his company to his ex–wife,
but he'd come to realize that in the end their divorce had
been nothing but business.
This was personal.
And he wanted to know.
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